Vera

The world was fire.

The roar of the explosion still rang in my ears, a deafening hum that made it impossible to hear my own screams. Smoke clawed down my throat, hot and bitter, as flames licked across the shattered garage.

“Vanessa!” I choked, stumbling forward. The black car was a mangled heap, its windows blown out, shards of glass glittering like cruel stars across the floor.

Through the smoke, I saw her tiny hand pressed against the cracked glass. My heart lurched. She was alive. ...